fumbling through the grey
by beermestrengths
Summary: When Bellamy walks back through the gates of Camp Jaha, Octavia matching his stride, he expects shouting and handcuffs and maybe a smug, disapproving glare from Kane or a disappointed one from Abby Griffin. He sees a zip tie around his wrists and a rifle pressed into his back in his immediate future (and sees Octavia not having any of it).


**Again, another fic I forgot to upload on and has been gathering dust on ao3 for a while. This was originally meant to be a multi-chap but I ran out of steam after a while, so may stay a one-shot indefinitely.**

When Bellamy walks back through the gates of Camp Jaha, Octavia matching his stride, he expects shouting and handcuffs and maybe a smug, disapproving glare from Kane or a disappointed one from Abby Griffin. He sees a zip tie around his wrists and a rifle pressed into his back in his immediate future (and sees Octavia not having _any _of it).

He couldn't find his friends and it almost feels like a defeat, being back here. His little sister is safe, by his side, battle scars and all (although he hates that she has any battle scars _at all_) and for right now, that is enough. It has to be enough. He's running a hand through his hair, wondering if he'll be able to wash the damn blood and dirt off his face before Kane marches him back into the makeshift holding cell when Octavia rests a halting hand on his forearm.

"Bell, look" she breathes, a pointed note in her voice. She's nodding her head towards one of the many entrances to the broken shell of the Ark, a smile spreading across her face.

And, honestly, the last thing Bellamy expected to see as his boots trudged through the compound of the Arkers, is Clarke fucking Griffin.

She's standing next to her mother wearing a different jacket to the one he last saw her in, angry red cuts all over her face, and bruises to match, but it is unmistakably her. Bellamy's feet stop still, his progression halted and his brain can't quite comprehend what his eyes are seeing.

Bellamy thinks about the look on her face the night the Grounders attacked their camp, fear etched in to her furrowed brow and eyes shiny with tears of anger and fear. He was far too busy being punched in the gut, focusing on getting to the dropship (and, you know, not getting incinerated) to throw much of a look her way – but he couldn't forget the anguish in her features as Miller pulled her reluctant form back into the ship.

Yet that is the opposite of the elation on her face as her eyes glance over to what has caught her mother's attention and she registers the sight of him, Octavia and Monroe – her mouth dropping open in a silent 'o'. Bellamy manages to get his feet working again and he starts towards Clarke, feeling an urgency he never imagined he'd attribute to the stubborn Phoenix girl he almost let drop into a spear pit just over month ago.

Clarke is a blonde blur flying across the camp towards the four of them. He realises Mel must be really confused right now.

He never thought Clarke was the hugging type. It isn't really his style either; although he estimates Octavia would laugh him out the door if he said that to her. But Clarke's arms go around his shoulders and he feels all the pent up tension go out of them. It's nothing like his hug with Octavia, which felt like coming home - this is more like waking up.

Bellamy's pretty sure he's never had a real friend before – it was kind of hard to forge bonds with other kids on the Ark when you couldn't tell them about the most important person in your life. Not to mention the guilt he'd feel after coming home late to see Octavia's sad little eyes waiting for him.

But Clarke is his co-leader and the list of people he trusts can be counted on a single hand, yet somehow she made the shortlist. They had shared every life lost and every difficult decision together. He hated to admit it, but he knows that he needs her just as much as she said she needed him the night they went to the bunker.

She is one of the few people in his life who has treated him with respect and kindness, even when he really didn't deserve it. And that means a metric fuck tonne more to him than he'd like to admit. Kindness was never a luxury he had been afforded, and he's pretty sure Clarke is the closest thing to a best friend he's ever had.

His head is buried in her curls; his eyes are closed as he rests his head on her shoulder for a moment, grinning like an idiot. When he opens his eyes, Clarke pulls back and he studies the stitches on her nose, her eyebrow and both of her lips. Then she turns to hug Octavia just as ferociously.

It's then Bellamy notices Raven standing a few feet away from them, cane in hand, and a smirk on her face. Raven is alive and standing up and she's actually walking over to them. Octavia and Clarke are still clutching each other, chattering animatedly and obliviously whilst Raven limps over to the group. But before Bellamy can get a word out of his mouth, he hears someone stop deliberately behind him and a forceful hand twist on his arm.

"Blake, come with me"


End file.
